


Whiskey & Cigarettes

by PrinceSircastic



Series: Magnus/Jensen [1]
Category: Wallander (UK TV)
Genre: I have no regrets, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-04
Updated: 2012-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 04:29:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/451275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceSircastic/pseuds/PrinceSircastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Magnus Martinsson met Jensen Hakansson. [Prequel of sorts to 'Under the Radar']</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey & Cigarettes

**Author's Note:**

> This is a somewhat prequel to my fic 'Under the Radar'. It's basically just the story of how Magnus came to be in Jensen's bed in the first place, and is set some weeks or so before Under the Radar takes place.

The bar was smoky, and hot, and there was a scent in the air that mingled smoke and sweat together in the most unpleasant way, but it was also noisy and distracting and that was just what Magnus needed. He sat hunched at the bar, the poorly-cushioned stool providing no comfort for his already aching muscles, nursing the same tumbler of whiskey he’d ordered when he’d first stepped into the bar two hours ago. His eyes were mostly rooted to the sticky worktop of the counter, tracing the obvious rings upon the wood where glasses had been placed down carelessly, and larger sticky patches where a careless hand had sloshed liquid over the lip. When he was not transfixed with the counter, he would occasionally glance around the room, eyes picking out random men and women scattered around him – some were drinking together, laughing at a shared joke, or dancing, hips grinding and bodies swaying with the loud, pumping music that Magnus barely paid any attention to. 

It had been another long case at work. Every new lead they’d picked up on had taken them down an even darker route, and by the time they’d rounded off the case and made an arrest, they were all exhausted and simply wanting to give up and go home. Kurt really hadn’t helped matters, Magnus mused. He never did, really. He was an experienced cop, and yet he still made all the same rookie mistakes as a new one – and that irked him. What was the point of leading a team if he refused to use them when it would be most efficient? But that was Kurt, of course, always wanting to do things his way, by himself. It didn’t matter to him that he wouldn’t have had even half of the answers he needed with Anne-Britt’s intuition, or  _his_  research. 

He had meant to go straight home after Kurt dismissed them that evening, but as he’d strolled through the brisk, chilly air, he’d found himself turning away from the road to home and heading into the town instead. He’d picked the first bar he’d seen, and now here he was, two hours later, still as tired and as miserable as before but at least here he didn’t have five seconds to think too much about how much he really did hate his job. 

“Long day?” The deep voice close to his ear startled him, and he felt his entire body twitch in a quite frankly embarrassing reaction. He whirled around, pale eyes finding the man who had spoken – tall, blond, muscular were his first observations, bright blue eyes and a hand wrapped tightly around a half-empty bottle of brand-name beer as he leant against the counter were his next observations, and finally he settled upon the friendly grin that was spread across his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” His voice was smooth and almost musical, and despite the loud music Magnus heard each word perfectly. “You just looked bored and alone, and I was sat over there,” he faintly gestured to the other end of the bar with the mouth of his bottle, “looking at you thinking it’s such a crime for someone to look so utterly miserable at this time of night.” Magnus studied him a moment, trying to switch off his cop brain – but that was difficult. In the beginning it had been easy to distinguish between cop and regular-guy-Magnus, but now, having taken his work home with him so many times in the past, it was becoming increasingly difficult to stop being Magnus Martinsson, Ystad Police Detective outside of work hours. 

“Yeah, long day.” He muttered in response. He turned his gaze back to the whiskey that sat in front of him, and he sneered a little as he studied the murky liquid. Suddenly he really didn’t feel like being sober. Long fingers curled around the tumbler and he knocked back the warm liquid, feeling it burn all the way down his throat before settling in his stomach like bubbling lava. He registered a soft chuckle and then the blond was lifting his free hand, gesturing to the barman before making a universal sign of ‘another round, please’. 

“I know a little about long days, myself.” The blond slid onto the empty stool beside him, and although Magnus had certainly not intended to interact with anyone other than the barman tonight, he realised he didn’t feel irritation crawling up his spine like he would normally when disturbed. As a second whiskey was placed in front of him, Magnus felt a tiny smile tug at his lips as he turned properly to face the blond. “Name’s Jensen.” He held out a hand, and Magnus glanced at it for a moment before taking it in his own, and giving it a firm shake – big hands, he noticed, and warm, too, with a strong grip but nothing too intimidating or overpowering about it. Now he begged his mind to switch off from police-detective-Magnus. He couldn’t go on studying this man – Jensen – like a piece of evidence. 

“Magnus.” He offered his name in return, and Jensen grinned before taking a swig from his beer. For a second Magnus’ eyes were drawn to the movements of his throat as he swallowed before he forced them back up to Jensen’s face, amazed at himself for finding such interest in someone he’d only just met. 

Attraction for Magnus was more like to come in the form of technology than living flesh. He’d always been a bit awkward romantically ever since he’d hit his growth spurt as a young teen and became a being with about as much grace as a spider wearing rollerskates, and once he’d become adjusted to his taller, leaner figure (and once his body had caught up with the rapidly growing limbs that came upon him without warning) he had focused more upon his studies, wanting to aim as high as possible. He’d experimented, of course – kisses behind the bike sheds, drunken fumbling at house parties whenever the situation called for it, and he’d even had a girlfriend or two during school, but he’d never felt completely satisfied with any of it. Going through college had promised opportunity for him, and despite the crazy nights where everything was a blur and the only evidence of his actions were inked numbers upon his arms and smudges of lipstick on his face, he’d never really thrown himself into a serious relationship with anyone. Sexually, he had no trouble – there was always someone lining up to jump into bed with him, and in those days he hadn’t even given it a second thought, but he never called them back, and they never sought him out, so that was that. 

When his time got taken up by police duties – training, then apprenticeship, followed by more training and finally his badge – he had none left to explore relationships, and he was quite content with that. Slowly, as the job crept into his mind and took over his life, he found his interests lying elsewhere. His attention had shifted from finding the next attractive human nearby to the smooth keys he could manipulate at lightning speeds, accessing skills he hadn’t known he possessed, producing the results his boss wanted from him (even if the effort went unappreciated ninety percent of the time). He didn’t think himself a genius, or anything even remotely close, and he knew that there was someone probably on the same street with more technological skills than himself, but he prided himself on being the one that the team turned to when something malfunctioned, because he was  _Magnus Martinsson_  and he could  _fix it_. 

Still, looking at Jensen now as he downed the last of his beer and slid the empty bottle back onto the counter, Magnus felt that old urge of his creeping up on him, and the little voice in his head was telling him to flirt – smile, get to know him, touch his arm and give him all the right signs so he knows you’re available and ready to jump into bed with him if he plays his cards right. He temporarily put the voice on mute. 

“Thanks for the drink.” He commented idly, lifting the glass to swirl the liquid inside a moment before he sipped at it, taking it slowly this time. Jensen ordered another beer from the barman, and then turned to flash another grin at him. 

“No problem. You looked like you needed it.” Jensen’s tone was calm and easy, and Magnus immediately pinned him as a very laid-back guy. He shifted on his stool, feeling the ache in his muscles even more so now than before. “Want to talk about your long day?” Magnus considered his offer – no one ever really asked him how he was feeling, how he liked his job, or if he just wanted to  _talk_  about it. Anne-Britt had taken him out for coffee once in the middle of a case and they’d spoken a little, but he’d felt so uncomfortable that it must have shown, because she hadn’t asked him again. 

“It’s… difficult.” He replied with a shrug, hoping he didn’t come off as too closed-off or edgy. He just never knew how much to tell a civilian, let alone a stranger. “I should be used to long days, but… they always catch up to you, regardless.” When Jensen simply raised an eyebrow, curious, he gave in. “I’m… I’m a cop.” Jensen made an ‘ah’ sound as if suddenly the meaning of life made sense, and he laughed. 

“A cop, huh? Guess I better be on my best behaviour then, right?” He gave Magnus a wink, and any tension Magnus had felt dissipated with that single gesture, and he was laughing with him. 

“Well… I’m not on duty.” He replied in a voice that could have been likened to a purr. It felt so natural, he discovered, openly flirting with this attractive – yes, he was admitting it – young man. For just a second he wasn’t Magnus Martinsson, police detective. He was just plain old Magnus, alone in a bar and not altogether hating the unexpected company. 

“Lucky for me, then.” Jensen took a swig from his beer, but his eyes never left Magnus’. Knowing how to play this game, Magnus lifted his own drink, not breaking the steady gaze as he tasted whiskey on his tongue. Oh yes – this night was going to be interesting. 

— 

It didn’t take long for them to move away from the crowded bar and head to a quieter corner near the back. Jensen found them a table in one corner, and they sat opposite one another, drinking and talking as easily as if they’d known each other for weeks, rather than minutes. Jensen was very open – in all of ten minutes Magnus had learned that the blond worked for a local shipping and delivery company, lived only two blocks from the bar, had a younger brother overseas at an international college, and lived by a very strict fitness regime to keep himself in shape. In return, Magnus had offered up more details about his own life – he worked homicide cases as part of a team, he had a strained relationship with his boss (which he accidentally went a little too into detail about, but Jensen seemed amused nonetheless), and he had a weakness for a really good piece of cake. 

“So… what do you do when you get home? Like, how do you relax?” Jensen asked, sipping at his drink as he watched Magnus across the table. One hand was gripping his glass tightly as he gazed down into it, his other hand resting upon the table not far from Jensen’s own. “Got someone waiting back home to greet you?” Magnus scoffed a little, and lifted his eyes. 

“Nope. Just an empty apartment.” He shrugged, averting his eyes again. His eyebrows knitted together in a frown that both told of confusion and deep thought, and he seemed to consider something for a moment. “Maybe I should get a cat.” Jensen laughed softly at his words, and he was pleased to see a grin spread across Magnus’ face as their eyes met again. Jensen decided he really liked Magnus’ smile. “What about you…?” 

“Same deal. Empty apartment, no cat.” He murmured, smirking a little. “Used to be someone, a while back, but that ended a long time ago and I guess the empty space is a little comforting now that I’m used to it. I can just… be me, you know? I can get in from my run and not worry about having to go jump in the shower to make myself presentable. I can just drop onto the sofa to catch my breath and switch on some crap TV and just relax for a few minutes. It’s… nice.” Magnus understood what he meant. It had become a habit of his now, once he got inside his door and was shut off from the outside world, to just wander down the hall as he shrugged out of his jacket and yanked off his shirt, letting them fall carelessly to the floor as he went. He’d return and pick them up later, but the second he felt the cool air of his apartment upon bare skin, he forgot about the world and he would drop down face-first onto the sofa, or onto his bed, or even onto the floor because he just needed to stop and lie flat for a few minutes. He didn’t care how sweaty or grimy he was from the day’s work, if he needed to wash off blood or dirt or dried-on sweat. More often than not, he’d woken up a couple of hours later in the same position without knowing he’d fallen asleep, and he felt ten times more refreshed than if he’d immediately gone and jumped in the shower. 

“Are you gonna need another drink?” Jensen murmured, setting a now-empty bottle down on the table, his other hand shifting closer to where Magnus’ fingers still tapped out a rhythm upon the wood. “Or maybe…” Magnus had a feeling he knew where this was going, and the urge to down the rest of his drink and drag him out of his chair was almost too much to resist. Instead, he simply angled his head, playing innocent, waiting for Jensen to actually say the words. “Maybe we could take this somewhere else?” He smirked, slowly, and lifted his glass to drain the rest of the whiskey. When he set the empty glass down, he reached out very slightly and let his fingers brush over the back of Jensen’s hand, sliding his knee between Jensen’s beneath the table in a less-than-subtle manner. He was done being subtle now. 

“Do I really need to answer that?” He murmured, lifting an eyebrow. Jensen simply grinned and rose to his feet, loosely grasping Magnus’ hand to keep a connection between them. When Magnus joined him, he let his fingers slide up over his hand to grasp his sleeve instead – a well-known gesture seen in bars and clubs as a way to keep a friend close in preparation to weave through the crowds of people on route to their destination. Pleased with himself, Magnus allowed Jensen to guide him through the people dancing together, trying to keep the stupid grin from showing on his face. 

They were trapped for a moment as a new song came on and more people flooded onto the dance floor, and Magnus found himself pressed back against the wall, Jensen firmly wedged against him by a group of girls currently shrieking along to the lyrics as they moved in wild gestures together – clearly wasted and having a shit ton of fun. Magnus smirked at Jensen as the blond supported himself with one hand on the wall beside Magnus’ head, and he was aware of the close proximity of their lower bodies rather suddenly when one of the girls stumbled back and knocked into Jensen, forcing the blond’s hips to grind against Magnus’ in a movement that was so wildly erotic, the homicide cop actually let out a quiet moan of pleasure. He was sure Jensen had heard it even over the loud music, for the blond was staring down at him with the same lustful hunger that Magnus knew was shining in his own eyes at that moment. They held each other’s gaze, both of them feeling the obvious arousal of the other, but not quite sure how to approach it – act on it now, or wait until the freedom and privacy of an empty apartment? 

The decision was made for them as the group of girls moved away, freeing the space immediately behind Jensen. Releasing the breath Magnus hadn’t known he’d been holding, he gave Jensen a brief smile full of promise, and gestured with his eyes to the door of the bar – with a slight nod, Jensen pulled away from him and continued on through the crowd. Magnus’ fingers curled around the blond’s wrist now, strengthening the link between them as they weaved closer to the door, and when they finally broke free and staggered out into the chill night air, Jensen laughed and slung his arm loosely around Magnus’ shoulders. 

They had two options now – hail a cab and head back to Magnus’ apartment, or walk the two blocks to Jensen’s. Sharing a long glance, they held a silent conversation with their eyes, until a decision was made and Jensen gently nudged Magnus down the street. Something told Magnus he should probably suggest going to back to  _his_  apartment – he had to be in work the next morning and there was a routine he went through each morning – but all he could focus on was the warmth seeping through the fabric of his shirt from the arm around his shoulders. As they turned the corner, out of sight of the bar they’d just left, Magnus lifted his own arm and snaked it around Jensen’s waist, leaning into him. 

The walk went by quickly for Magnus – Jensen’s arm slipped from his shoulders to curl around his waist to match the arm around  _his_ , and he talked as they walked, relating back a story of an awkward encounter in a bar that he’d been reminded of moments ago. Magnus listened intently, though it wasn’t so much the words he was paying attention to but the voice that spoke them. With every syllable Jensen spoke, Magnus could feel himself becoming more and more eager to get him through the door and into bed. The warm hand clasped almost possessively on his hip was distracting, as was the powerful scent of whatever cologne Jensen was wearing – he hadn’t noticed it before, but now he could hardly ignore it. He studied his profile with eyes almost half-lidded with desire, and he knew Jensen had to be aware of it. 

He barely even noticed when Jensen turned him off the street and up to an apartment block, didn’t even focus on Jensen opening the door and leading him into the building. That warm hand on his hip had tugged up his shirt, fingers lightly brushing across his skin, and it felt _so good_. He heard the jingle of keys, but his mind was distracted almost immediately by the lips now pressed to his jaw. His head tilted to one side, angling to give Jensen more room, his hand now pressed flat to Jensen’s spine as his nails dug in slightly. The door swung open and Jensen turned, walking backwards into the apartment, dragging Magnus inside with him. 

He knew it was coming before it happened – the second he heard the door close behind him, Magnus found himself pressed up against it, his lips now locked with Jensen’s. He tasted of beer and cigarettes, and for some reason that felt comforting to him. His hands weaved into Jensen’s blond hair, grabbing handfuls and holding tightly without tugging, keeping him in position as he rolled his hips forward, eager. One of them moaned – though neither knew which – and Jensen’s hands slipped up the back of Magnus’ shirt, feeling the smooth, warm skin hidden beneath. 

Magnus curled his tongue inside Jensen’s mouth, savouring his taste, one hand falling from the soft blond hair to press against his chest, nails dragging down over the fabric of his shirt. Together, they staggered back away from the door, Jensen’s hands now pulling at Magnus’ shirt, managing to get it unbuttoned in record speed. Magnus shrugged out of it as Jensen pulled it from him, and it dropped onto the floor to be forgotten almost instantly. Firm hands grasped his hips and turned him, pushing him up against the nearest wall, and Magnus responded by tugging at Jensen’s clothing – with a combined effort, his shirt was tugged up and over his head, tossed aside as Magnus’ had been. 

Hands now roamed exposed skin, touching, exploring, finding sensitive areas and nails clawed at flesh as their hips rocked together. In the blink of an eye, Magnus’ jeans were halfway down his legs, and Jensen’s belt had been yanked free and tossed to the floor. It was all fast, hot and hard, and  _oh god_  did it feel good. Kicking off his jeans, Magnus hooked one leg around Jensen’s, tugging him closer to grind his arousal against his thigh, and Jensen responded with a soft moan that sent shivers down Magnus’ spine. 

He gasped as a warm hand slid into his boxers and long fingers encircled him, the grasp gentle but still somehow firm. It had been so long since someone else had touched him this way that this first touch was like white-hot pleasure rippling through him. Somehow, his own touch was just not the same. The hand disappeared and he whimpered in protest, but only seconds later he felt his boxers being pushed down. He wriggled free of them, groaning softly as Jensen pressed closer to him, and he bucked his hips forward, eager for any sort of friction. He felt an arm curl around his waist and then he was being lifted higher up against the wall, held in place by Jensen’s body. 

“Bedroom?” Jensen murmured against his lips, and Magnus simply smirked and wrapped both legs around his waist. 

“Might be an idea.” Laughing, Jensen stepped away from the wall, arms supporting Magnus’ weight, and turned to carry him through the apartment. Magnus angled his head to place light, sharp bites along Jensen’s jaw, one hand twisting in his hair. He yelped as he was thrown down onto the bed, but he continued to grin as Jensen quickly wriggled out of his own jeans and boxers, kicking them off with a smirk. When Magnus beckoned to him, he crawled up over him and brought their lips together in a hot kiss, their bodies fitting together nicely. 

When Jensen’s lips moved down to his throat, Magnus dragged his nails over Jensen’s back, rolling his hips up against his with a long, low moan. He was so unbelievably turned on he could barely even think. Jensen parted from him long enough to reach into a drawer, and Magnus faintly recognised the sounds of a wrapped being torn open, and a cap being flicked off. He lifted his head, aiming to find out what was keeping Jensen away from him, but he threw it back a second later with a sharp cry as cool, slick fingers probed at his entrance. 

“Fuck…” He hissed, his legs parting to give Jensen a better angle. Jensen chuckled a little and leant down, placing kisses over his chest as he slipped one finger inside him, teasing at the tight muscle. When his lips found a nipple, Magnus arched up into him with a loud moan, and he used the momentary distraction to add a second finger, stretching him gently at first. He moved to pay attention to the other nipple, sucking and nipping playfully, working his fingers deep inside him. Magnus pushed back against him, chest heaving with every breath he sucked him, his eyes squeezed shut as he called out his pleasure in moans that increased in volume each time. 

“You sound beautiful.” Jensen purred against his skin, a third finger curling deep into him, sending more white-hot pleasure racing through Magnus’ body. 

“Just fuck me already!” Magnus growled, and Jensen simply laughed in response. He withdrew his fingers even though he felt there was still some preparation left to do – Magnus knew his own body, after all, and if he felt ready then he certainly wasn’t going to argue with him. 

“Someone’s eager.” He murmured, biting at Magnus’ throat as he slid one hand along the inside of one of his thighs. Fingers weaved into his hair, and Magnus’ other leg hooked up over his shoulder, and he grinned against his skin. “Very eager.” 

“Shut up and do it.” Magnus moaned, yanking his head up for a bruising kiss. “Now.” Jensen didn’t need to be told twice – he angled himself, and thrust home. Magnus’ head tipped back with a loud cry and for a moment Jensen panicked, believing to have hurt him – but when Magnus’ eyes met his and he could read only pleasure in his gaze, he smirked and withdrew to thrust in again, and again. 

He set the pace fast and hard, unable to hold himself back. Magnus’ moans – which bordered on being screams – only encouraged him along. He rocked against him, one hand gripping his hip tightly, the other braced against the headboard. Magnus hooked one arm around Jensen’s neck, his hand grasping his hair tightly whilst his other hand roamed his back, nails dragging down his spine. Jensen thrust deeper into him, lifting his hips to get a better angle, and Magnus rewarded him with a scream of pleasure that probably disturbed his neighbours. 

His lips found Magnus’ neck again, and he marked him with lips, teeth and tongue, slamming his hips down harder and faster. Magnus pushed back against him, meeting every thrust eagerly, head falling back to expose more of his delicious throat – Jensen made the most of it, sucking and biting, leaving several marks behind. Magnus slipped a hand between their bodies, curling his fingers around his shaft and stroking roughly, dizzy with pleasure and desperate for release. 

When he reached his climax only minutes later – embarrassingly quick, he would later muse, but right now he didn’t care – he screamed out louder than before, spilling his seed over his stomach and Jensen’s. Jensen uttered a soft ‘fuck’ as he felt Magnus’ muscles tighten around him, and he paused mid-thrust as he actually saw spots before his eyes. He forced himself to keep going, feeling himself drawing close to his own release, especially now Magnus felt even tighter around him. He came hard moments later, riding out his orgasm as Magnus trembled with pleasure beneath him. His first instinct was to simply collapse on top of him, but he knew he shouldn’t, and so with his last remaining strength he pulled free of him, removed the condom he’d slipped on earlier – tossing it into the bin beside the bed – and then he turned and collapsed beside him instead. 

“Fuck.” Magnus murmured, catching his breath as he turned his head to glance at Jensen. “You’re pretty damn good.” Jensen laughed, dragging a hand through his hair as he met Magnus’ eyes. 

“Not so bad yourself.” He replied easily. There was silence for a moment and then they both moved in for a slow kiss, tasting a mixture of beer, cigarettes and whiskey. When they parted, Magnus grinned at him. 

“I don’t normally do this.” He admitted. “Y’know… go home with a stranger I met in a bar.” 

“Well, I don’t normally bring home strangers I meet in bars, either.” Jensen smiled back at him. “Are you going to leave, now?” 

“Do you want me to leave?” Jensen was struck by the intensity of the question – such a casual phrase, but the weight it carried was incredible. He held Magnus’ eyes for a moment, feeling strangely vulnerable under that stormy gaze, and then he smiled again. 

“No.” He whispered, honesty clear in his tone. “No, I’d like it if you stayed…” 

And so Magnus stayed. 

— 

It was his phone that woke him. 

Disoriented and half-asleep, he staggered out of bed – and out of Jensen’s arms, but that didn’t register straight away – and tried to locate his jeans before the phone stopped ringing. He ended up sprawled on the floor in the hall, phone pressed to one ear, just in time. 

“Martinsson.” He grumbled as he answered. It was Kurt on the other end, and that made him cringe – from the short details he was given, a body had been found in the sewer, and Kurt wanted him on the scene in no less than an hour. He hung up, scowling now, and gathered up his clothes quickly. He stood in the hallway a moment, chewing nervously on his bottom lip as he glanced back into the apartment. He could easily get dressed there in the hall, and be on his way without waking Jensen, but did he want to? Did he really want to just leave? He should leave a note, or something, just telling Jensen he had to leave and maybe thank him for a good night – and perhaps he should leave his phone number. That’s what people did, right? But what if this was just one night for Jensen? What if he didn’t want to take his number? 

“Magnus?” He turned just in time to see Jensen standing by the door, hair still sleep-tousled. He hadn’t bothered to dress, and Magnus let his eyes roam over his figure for a moment before he returned his gaze to Jensen’s face. “Are you leaving?” He felt a sudden wave of guilt – he realised it must look like he was intending to sneak out. 

“My phone…” He held it up as if that would explain everything. “Remembered where I left my jeans… it was my boss. I’ve gotta head into work pretty soon.” He smiled a little. “I was gonna leave you a note or something…” 

“Good thing I woke up then.” Jensen grinned, striding over to him. “Because I doubt you want to go into work smelling of sex and whiskey.” Magnus frowned a little, and then brought his shirt to his face and sniffed slightly – yeah, it smelled like the inside of a bar. Brilliant. “Don’t worry. I can find you something suitable if you like?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned and disappeared back into the bedroom. A little baffled, Magnus followed, watching as Jensen rummaged in his closet. He emerged holding a pair of slim jeans and a simple black button-up shirt. “Might be a little big, but we’re around the same size so it shouldn’t be too much of a problem.” 

“Oh, ah… thanks.” He gave him a smile. “Guess this gives me a reason to come back, huh? To return them…” Jensen winked. 

“Why do you think I’m doing it?” He handed him the clothes and leant in to steal a kiss. “I knew last night, before we left the bar, that I’d want to see you again. You’re… fascinating.” He laughed, and Magnus grinned in return. “So… do you have time for a quick shower, or is that asking too much?” 

“… I can make time.” Magnus smirked, dropping the clothes onto the bed before hooking his arms around Jensen’s neck, tugging him down for another kiss. 

Screw work, and screw Kurt, he thought. For the first time in  _months_ , he was actually happy.


End file.
